


Sto venendo a prenderti, Angel..

by Athelye



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Macabre, Masturbation, Minor Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athelye/pseuds/Athelye
Summary: "Every night, only for you, dear listeners, your trustworthy Radio Demon is on air.Stay tuned."Angel Dust doesn't miss an episode of that broadcast, that's his favourite by now. Locked door, lights off, headset on, let's the show begin.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), RadioDust
Comments: 26
Kudos: 293





	Sto venendo a prenderti, Angel..

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> So, this is the English version of my story _"I'm coming for you, Angel.."_ in my native language (Italian, that you can find [_**here**_](https://efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=3880114&i=1)).  
> I wanted to try to translate it, and this is the result!  
> Some time ago I found [_**this fanart**_](https://twitter.com/dreadfluent/status/1199098262663380992), so I started to write down something about it, trying to stay IC.  
> (P.s. [Here](http://athelyewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> is my tumblr, if you're interested.)
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it, even if it's not my main language (so please, don't be too hard on me, but corrections are ALWAYS welcome!). I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think in the comments ^^
> 
> Btw, have a good read and enjoy the show!
> 
> **_Athelyè ~_ ❤**

He was the _fucking_ Angel Dust, how could it be he’d been _rejected_?!  
He, the porn actor everyone wanted a bit of, the most popular hooker under half the street lamps of Hell. He had also his own fan club, he was a celebrity!  
And it didn’t happen just _one time_ , but definitely _too many_ times, fuck!  
How could it be Angel Dust managed to find the only demon in the entire Underworld who didn’t want to bend him, tie him up, whip him, or bang him until he passes out?!  
He wouldn’t have cared at all, if only Alastor hadn’t refused every single _fucking_ advance. Stupid strawberry transistor.  
He tried everything to seduce and charm him. Damn, he even lied on the piano of the Hotel while Alastor was playing it, stretching himself on the reflecting surface in lacquered black wood. _Naked_.  
Nothing. That damn demon didn’t even cast a glance at him, he kept playing unshakable, hitting the polished black and white keys as nothing happened.  
With every refuse, Alastor seemed more chivalrous, while he looked more desperate at every attempt.

So, to soothe his desire, he occasionally listened to Alastor’s radiophonic broadcast, the one on air on every night at 2.30, the one where he narrated some of the cruellest details of his murders (on every Friday, Saturday and Sunday), explained recipes with ghosts as main ingredients (Monday and Thursday), interviewed some infernal celebrity (regular appointment on Tuesday)..  
Alright, let’s say he listened to it occasionally very often, probably _too_ often.  
But it was useless to hide his obsession for that Radio Demon, basically the same for alcohol, drugs, sex and smoke.  
That apart, his favourite show was on Wednesday night. Alastor “play-acted” some murders, “putting them on” as a play, as if they were scripts.  
_All the world’s a stage_ , he always said, and it was also the title of that broadcast.

Why did he like that specific broadcast, you ask? Well, it’s simple.  
As we said earlier, Alastor personally acted the episode, telling every detail of the more different crimes, successfully absorbing the listener with his mastery in using his vocal cords, making it look something easy. _That_ gave Angel Dust goose bumps.  
Hearing directly in his ears the deep voice of Alastor, who whispered in some kind of provoking way, with that slow, dangerous, _seducing_ tone.  
Fuck, his voice was addicting. It sneaked on you, catching you by surprise, and before you even knew, it strangled you on your throat with a grasp from which it was impossible to get free.  
At the beginning, Angel Dust couldn’t admit it, finding Alastor just shamelessly arrogant and haughty, and why not, also _démodé_ , always with that crimson suit and the waistcoat.  
He wondered what made him so special to be known by every damned soul, what _the hell_ made a radio programme so splendid, since you couldn’t even see what the radio hosts were doing, and well. After the first time, he understood.  
On the next times, he found himself wearing the soft fuchsia headphones even before the half-hour has struck, sitting through the end of the damn lame previous broadcast, directed by that Katie Killjoy bitch. AD always wondered who she sucked off to be there.  
In other words, it became a night habit for him, too. This way, even if he couldn’t have the demon physically between the sheets of his bed in that destined-to-fail (since its opening) hotel, he could feel him near, as if he was there.

That’s why also on that Wednesday, he wore his headset, ready to listen the mellifluous voice of the Radio Demon and to give himself up to it.  
Angel Dust grabbed the chance of his usual ten minutes early to lock his room, ignoring the irritating comments of the blonde, flippant, and most of all _old_ lady on air.  
Actually, he shouldn’t have been able to have the key (neither to use it), but since the last time Alastor entered his room while he was practicing lap dancing, Angel Dust asked Charlie the key, telling her it was to avoid traumatizing the deer demon again. We won’t say that he could vent other vices worse than lap dance, this way, hiding liquor and various drugs in his room. C’mon, his image depended on it.  
He checked the door was double locked. It wasn’t for embarrassment, not at all. It would’ve been only a real drag if he got interrupted, no shame: he didn’t even care to close the curtains of the window properly, leaving a chink that overlooked the spider’s bed.  
He turned off the light, while in his ears started the theme of the broadcast he waited all day, every day.  
He lied down on the soft quilt, only after drinking at least a quarter of the liquor he kept hidden in false bottom of the wardrobe. A safe hideout from _Chaggie_ , the nickname with which he rebaptized the couple of guardians: the innocent Satan’s daughter who ran the place and that mastiff of her South American girlfriend.  
Finally, he could relax. Just in time. In the place of the slow and dark music, started the voice of the demon he hated the most there in Hell, but also apparently the one he couldn’t help but need the most.

“ _Good evening everyone, dear ghostly listeners. I hope you had a horrible evening while waiting for me_.”

Typical. Angel Dust snorted, making himself more comfortable.

“ _Tonight, I intend to tell you about the murder of a young, beautiful lady, who would have had a bright future in front of her, if only she didn’t go to the bank of a lake in the dead of the night_.”

Alastor always did a little preview, kind of a prologue to his ‘act’.

“ _All the world’s a stage, dear listeners. Draw the curtain._.”

So the story began.  
The voice, slightly rough and deep, got in the arachnid demon’s ears without an interference, gently caressing his brain, which started to feel lighter.

“ _I watch you. With this moonlight, your blond hair seems to shine more than usual. The lightly smudgy makeup under your eyes is a clear hint that you were crying until a little ago, probably in fear_.”

Ah, another detail of that broadcast was that one. The Radio Demon talked to the listener like to his victim. It gave you the shivers, making you to put yourself in the story.

“« _Good girl, you came alone._ » _You’re trembling, sweetheart. I come near you, caressing your cheek._ « _Good girl_.» _I repeat it, because you like it, when someone pleases you_.”

Angel Dust started to bite his lower lip, feeling something hot growing in his chest then feeling it flowing down, through his body to his groin.

“ _I lift your face with two fingers under your chin. You pretend to be shy, but I know you’re not, dear._ « _You’re beautiful. And obedient._ » _You’re delighted by those words, while I move behind your back. Probably, you think I want to hug you, or maybe something more. Otherwise, why would I invite you here, in the middle of the night?_ ”

With one hand, Angel Dust made sure that his headphones didn’t slip, while he unbelted his leather shorts, letting another one of his hands to slide in his pants. He closed his eyes, and focused more on the deep and guttural notes of that voice.

“« _It’s a good thing that you’re so docile, my dear._ » _This one is a compliment, too, for you. You smile and chuckle. I move your blond hair from your neck, caressing it with my fingers, and I feel the shivers vibrating on my fingertips. A burst of pleasure runs through our bodies, but mine is due to the life energy I’m going to tear from you. I smile at your naivety. Darling, you make all of this so.. Ah, easy._ ”

He pulled down his shorts more, and his pants with them, to the ankles, so that nothing could hamper while he was slowly massaging his erection, enjoying every whispered word of that story, balanced with the right tone at the right moment.  
“Oh, Alastor.. You don’t even know how easy..” He murmured with a huff, listening with a smile.

“ _I brush your neck again, travelling with nails each of yours pulsing vein, full of life. You take a deep breath, can’t imagine what aspects you, sweet lamb. My lips travel slowly on your skin, greedy of that energy, while my teeth can’t wait to taste your blood_.”

Angel Dust gulped and started to press more on his headset with the upper pair of hands, maybe thinking to plunge more in those hypnotic sonorities that way.  
Meanwhile, he started to increase the rhythm with which he was stimulating himself, resorting to the use of his centred pair of hands: one was under his sweater, pinching and teasing a nipple, the other was caressing the inner of his thigh languidly.  
He brought two fingers to his mouth, playing with the tongue around them, diving them between his lips and sucking. He freed them only when he felt satisfied with the saliva on them, then he moved them down, between his legs, violating himself with a soft moan of pleasure. It didn’t take long before inserting a third finger.  
In that moment, it wasn’t difficult to fantasize that the deer demon was filling him, with thrusts that kept pace with the hand on his dick, which was speeding up constantly with the tension of the story.  
_Ah!_ , if only Vaggie didn’t confiscate his toys!

“ _I lick your neck, to enjoy the salty taste of a prey, unconscious of its imminent death. And you groan, and groan. Fool. I feel the tense leaving your muscles, while you abandon yourself in my grasp, that you believe gentle. I lift your chin again, sinking my nails in your jaw. You let my name escape from your lips while I bite you, tasting the sweet, metallic flavour on the tip of my tongue_.”

Angel Dust started to moan and pant in a more and more needy way, while with the only one free hand left he grasped the quilt as he needed it to live, pushing deeper and deeper with his fingers, chasing the growing pleasure.

“ _It’s the last thing you manage to say, little naïve. In one second, you feel something cold and aseptic brushing gently your throat, and you don’t realize what it is in time to call for help. With a tear, I smile at your wide-open and glazed eyes, while everywhere splattered your blood, staining your clothes, smearing my face and the keen grimace of sneering triumph_.”

The arachnid demon arched his back, letting out a strangled scream, a muffled moan, a hushed name, while his abdomen got dirty with his own elation, white and dense.  
He reclined his head, the soft chest panting, going up and down quickly. With his muscles tingling for the release, he enjoyed the last feeling of the pleasure, chuckling satisfied of himself.

“ _I watch you slumping at my feet with pleasure, dirty, without anything left to sustain you. Soaked and immersed in your own essence. I lick with care the blade, wet with your taste, and I already think about my next prey_.”

A shiver ran through Angel Dust’s spine with the next words, pronounced with an even deeper voice, rougher and drenched of desire, making the soft and light fur bristle all over his body. He couldn’t see him, but Angel Dust was sure he was smiling.

He wide-opened his eyes, turning to the window, the curtains slightly parted, with his breathing still panting because of the orgasm.

“ _I’m coming for you, Angel.._ ”


End file.
